The Romantic
by didcaesarlivehere
Summary: "There were so many things she wanted to say, to do. She wanted to wrap him in a friendly hug and whisper reassurances. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for believing, deep down, that he would only return to his home district within the confines of a box. But her muddied mind could only construct one question."


**Author's Note: I do not own ****The Hunger Games.**

She was halfway down the staircase when she heard it—her father's whistling.

Delly's mood lifted considerably. Her father always whistled as he worked—low and off-key as he cut and measured and stitched.

After Peeta's reaping, the cobbler's shop had fallen silent. When Peeta lay camouflaged in mud, Delly's father had begun to sob, shakily retelling Peeta's first shoe fitting.

_"Never a nicer boy,"_ he lamented, as though Peeta were already dead.

But now things seemed sunnier. Peeta was back in District 12, and Delly's father had resumed whistling.

"Morning, Papa," Delly greeted, walking past her father's workbench.

The man looked up from a partially constructed boot. "Morning, Dell. Any big plans for the day?"

Delly shrugged but, truthfully, she was hoping to return to her book. It was tattered and dog eared, the cover barely attached. Her friend Mabel had wordlessly handed it to her in History class, and Delly had stared at the novel in confusion. Delly Cartwright was many things: a friend, an optimist, at times even a gossip. But she certainly wasn't a reader.

She was surprised, then, when she became completely absorbed in the yellowing pages. The story centered around two competing wig designers from the Capitol: Champagne and Ace. Theirs was a torrid love affair that often culminated in burning loins and ripped clothing. Some of the descriptions made Delly blush, but she still found herself sighing and hugging the book to her doughy middle. It was amazing that two people could love each other _so much._ Sometimes, caught up in Champagne and Ace's whirlwind romance, Delly could momentarily forget Peeta's close brush with death.

"I have some homework," Delly lied.

"Think it can wait?" her father asked, smiling lopsidedly. Delly had inherited his cherubic features: large, red cheeks, white blonde hair. "I was hoping you could make a delivery for me."

Delly didn't possess the steady hand required for shoemaking. (Her brother, thankfully, had inherited that particular trait). She instead put her outgoing nature to good use by greeting customers, entertaining agitated children, and occasionally delivering shoes to some of the Merchant families.

"Sure," Delly replied, unwilling to alter her father's good mood. After some rummaging, he handed her a box wrapped in brown paper. "Are these for the Undersees?" she asked.

."Actually, those are going to Victor's Village." His voice trembled with excitement. "Peeta stopped by yesterday while you were in school. He's having some trouble with the prosthetic…" his expression momentarily hardened. "Anyway, he says the shoes from the Capitol are causing him to slide backward. Can you believe that? I told him it would be an honor to make him something new."

Delly's heart leapt as she exited the shop. She clutched the box respectfully, as though she were delivering a jeweled crown. This was truly better than any book—she was going to see a star-crossed romance in the flesh!

Most of District 12 had been shocked when Katniss Everdeen kissed Peeta Mellark in a dark, damp cave. Delly had only smiled knowingly. She and Peeta had grown up together—_thick as thieves, _her mother often said. When they weren't forced to lend a hand at their families' respective businesses, the two could be found creating chalk masterpieces on the sidewalk or catching fireflies beside the pig pen.

On one occasion, the duo sat on the back steps of the bakery. Peeta had begun to tell a joke when he froze, his mouth slightly agape. Delly followed his gaze to find Katniss Everdeen, their intimidating classmate from the Seam. She strode toward them, a game bag over one of her bony shoulders and a few pieces of grass clinging to her braid.

Delly opened her mouth to say hello, but Katniss bustled by as though they weren't there. Reddening, Peeta looked at his feet.

"Squirrels," he mumbled in explanation. "She trades with Dad…when Mom isn't around."

After that, Delly noticed the way Peeta's eyes lingered on Katniss in the hallways at school, or the way he sometimes craned his neck to look at her during math class. When they found one another in the arena, Delly felt a stirring of hope in her gut. The 74th annual Hunger Games had certainly been grisly, but now Peeta and Katniss had one another.

And that, Delly thought, was so very _romantic_.

Delly located the house she knew to be Peeta's, stifling a squeal of excitement. She reminded herself to knock _loudly. _In chapter seven of her novel, Champagne and Ace were in the throes of passion when interrupted by an Avox. Delly wanted to spare Peeta and Katniss the same embarrassment.

She drummed her knuckles, hard, against the ornate door and waited. Minutes ticked by, and Delly awkwardly shuffled the box in her arms. She raised a fist to knock again when the door unexpectedly swung open.

The man filling the door frame was certainly Peeta. He was as broad as Delly remembered, with the same blonde, wavy hair. But his complexion was now a sickly pale color, and his blue eyes were bleary and bloodshot. A thin t-shirt stretched across his chest, and he wore pajama bottoms speckled with what appeared to be paint. One of his arms was contorted behind his back.

He looked puzzled for a moment, and then visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping. "Delly, it's good to see you." He opened the door wider in invitation.

Delly managed to stammer out a hello, still reeling over her old friend's new appearance. She stepped inside the house, watching as Peeta laid an object on a nearby table. _A knife, _she realized. She noted that the interior of the house was mostly bare, her own slight movements echoing off the walls. Delly searched for some evidence of Katniss—a random hunting bow lying near the door or perhaps a picture of the tiny sister for whom she had risked life and limb. There was only clean, white space.

"Are these the shoes?" Peeta asked, jolting her from her thoughts. "You'll have to thank your father for me. He wouldn't accept any payment."

"That sounds like him," Delly replied, smiling. She handed him the box.

"Now that I have money to pay for things, everyone is just giving me their wares for free," Peeta said. There was an edge of malice in his tone, something Delly couldn't remember hearing from the Peeta of her childhood. That Peeta was always so _happy._

"He was glad to do it," Delly answered defensively. "He was so happy that you… made it back. We all were."

Peeta nodded, looking somewhat berated. "Well, thank you," he whispered. "I guess I should try them on."

He led Delly into his living room where he sat at one end of a stiff velvet couch. Carefully, he began opening his new parcel. Delly moved to sit at the other end when something in the corner of the room caught her eye. It appeared to be a large easel covered with a stained white cloth.

"Peeta!" she exclaimed. "Are you painting?" She remembered the chalk drawings from years ago and the careful way Peeta would draw his lines and add shading. His artwork seemed to pop from the pavement. The thought propelled her from her seat, and she walked excitedly toward the easel.

"It's not finished," Peeta choked out, the box spilling from his lap onto the floor.

"Don't be such a perfectionist," Delly teased, reaching for the cloth. She was just thinking about how nice it felt to tease him—almost _normal_—when her eyes fell on the uncovered painting.

Delly recognized the girl on the canvas: Glimmer, the provocative tribute from District 1. Her hands and face were as bulbous as a balloon, and purple welts covered her exposed skin like freckles. Her eyes were open, vacant, _dead_. Delly had watched Glimmer's demise at home like everyone else, but something about seeing it so closely—so _intimately_—made her hair stand on end.

She looked back at Peeta, who was meeting her stare with a nervous, haunted expression. There were so many things she wanted to say, to do. She wanted to wrap him in a friendly hug and whisper reassurances. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for believing, deep down, that he would only return to his home district within the confines of a box. But her muddied mind could only construct one question.

"Where's Katniss?" she asked quietly.

Peeta flinched at the mention of his fellow victor. "Delly," he began, exhaling loudly. "I appreciate you stopping by and everything, but I'm really tired. Maybe you better go."

Back home, her vision blurred with tears, Delly threw the romance novel into her family's fireplace. As the orange flames licked the cover, she decided to tell Mabel that she had simply misplaced it.

* * *

The cobbler's shop fell silent once again as the Cartwrights watched the Quarter Quell.

Delly's father sobbed when Peeta collided with the force field, his lifeless form falling to the lush, green ground.

"Poor boy," he wailed. "What a senseless way to go!"

He was revived moments later by the handsome tribute from District 4. Katniss Everdeen's choked cries and gasps of relief drowned out the sniffling of Delly's father.

"She was _really_ worried," remarked Delly's brother, his blue eyes round with innocence.

Delly kept quiet, but she knew the truth. She was no longer the naive girl who believed that two people could love one another genuinely, selflessly. The huntress' tears were simply part of the performance.

That's why, later, she initially rolled her eyes at Katniss' abrupt declaration.

_"I do,"_ she said on the screen of the family television, peering up from an open locket. _"I need you."_And then her lips met Peeta's.

Delly had seen the pair kiss countless times—during last year's games, highlights from the Victory Tour, staged appearances at various gatherings and galas. After her visit with Peeta, Delly was able to identify each smooch as stiff, awkward, _fake._

But this kiss was different.

The first press of Katniss' lips was timid and slow. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her eyebrows furrowed. Peeta brought his hands to her face, tracing her cheekbones with an artist's accuracy and threading his fingers in her dark hair. The kisses became deeper, _hungrier._ Even after all of the gore they had witnessed, Delly's mother still cupped a hand over the eyes of Delly's little brother.

When lightning finally broke the couple apart, Delly sensed that something had changed.

"_You're going to make a great mother, you know," _Peeta said. As always, his expression was gentle and honest. But it was the look on Katniss' face that assured Delly that what she was seeing was genuine. Her steel gray eyes were foggy with something that resembled adoration.

Delly involuntarily sighed. _How romantic._

At the conclusion of the Games, Katniss Everdeen sent an arrow into the stormy sky. The Cartwrights' television went black, their world plunged into darkness. Before the roar of the hoverplanes, the explosions, the fight to keep herself and her brother alive, Delly's last coherent thought was an unspoken wish.

Wherever they were, she sincerely hoped that Katniss and Peeta made their way back to one another.


End file.
